


In Which Gabrielle Meets Penthesilea

by Aria_Lerendeair, Whit Merule (whit_merule)



Series: Puppy love [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is Not Amused, F/F, Female Gabriel/Female Sam Winchester, Fluff, Gender or Sex Swap, In Public, Light Dom/sub, Overprotective Dean, Sex Toys, Teasing, Trans Female Character, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-08 06:44:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10380819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Lerendeair/pseuds/Aria_Lerendeair, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whit_merule/pseuds/Whit%20Merule
Summary: Sam has a perfect (if manic) girlfriend. Life is looking up. Now if only Dean would stop being an overprotective dick about who she dates.Fortuately, Castiel and Gabrielle have a plan to trick Dean into being civil. Even more fortunately,  Sam has a plan to keep Gabrielle... sort of polite... in return. More or less. Or at least punish her if she goes too far. The remote just fits in her pocket, too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From an RP between aria and whitmerule.  
> Also [gogetthegun on tumblr did some beautiful amazing (nsfw) art of trans Sam](http://goandgetthegun.tumblr.com/post/164027540689/her-name-is-sam-winchester-and-shes-a-hero-for)! It wasn't made for this fic but it is definitely now my headcanon image for it and it fits the tone so well that I beseeched permission of the artist to link it from here. RUN AND ADMIRE!

So, Gabrielle owned a house. 

Technically she shared it with Castiel—who was probably responsible for the modicum of order—but to Sam it felt just like Gabrielle. Colourful, warm, randomly extravagant, enthusiastic, eclectic, and messy.  

Oh, and rambling. There was that too. 

“ _Sammy_ ,” Gabrielle whined. “Why am I so bad at makeup?” 

Sam checked her reflection in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair. “You’re quite good when you’re not panicking over nothing.” 

“ _Panicking_. Why would I be panicking, Cas is my bestest bro and tormenting Dean is always hilarious and—” 

Gabrielle poked herself in the eye with the eyeliner stick. 

“Life is _worthless_ ,” she declared darkly. “I shall retreat to the darks of the Amazonian Himalayas and live with the jaguars and snow leopards and nobody will ever look upon my face again. Do you think snow leopards would be good at eyeliner? Ooh, I know, cheetahs. Cheetahs have the _best_ eyeliner.” 

And though the chatter was familiar there was an anxious edge underneath it that had Sam beckoning her over, gesturing to her lap. “Come here. Let me help.” 

Gabrielle perked up at once, and slid into place. “I like this place _even better_ than alpine rainforests,” she declared, nose to nose. “Hi!” 

Sam laughed, feeling the contented _rightness_ that only came with Gabrielle settle into place behind her ribs, and kissed her. “You are wound up tighter than a slinky,” she murmured, soft and gentle against Gabrielle’s lips.  “Breathe, or I’m going to make you wear the vibe panties tonight.” 

“...” said Gabrielle eloquently. “... That would _not_ help me breathe.” 

Sam waited for the inevitable continuation. 

“Well, it _would_ ,” Gabrielle decided. “It would make me breathe _really hard_.” 

Sam arched an eyebrow. 

“Your brother would go pink. And freckly.” 

Sam winked, and tilted Gabrielle’s chin up. “Eyes closed.” 

Gabrielle grumbled wordlessly, and melted into Sam’s touch with that obedient trust that always took Sam’s breath away. 

Until ten seconds later, when she was stealthily snuggling her hips in a little closer to Sam’s.  

Sam tapped her on the cheek (ignoring the secret delicious thrill that came with the implications of dominance), then gave in to temptation and leaned in for another kiss. “Behave. We are _not_ going to be late for dinner.” 

“As you command!” Gabrielle draped her arms over Sam’s shoulders and sat studiously still. 

For a minute.  

“So. Um. One thing. That I… maybe didn’t mention?” 

Sam paused, hand halfway to the mascara, and levelled Gabrielle with a Look. “And what thing would that be.” 

Gabrielle clasped her hands together at her breast, looking all wide-eyed and sweet and innocent. “ _Sammy_ it’s that tone of voice again. The one that says you are going to give me the _sad eyes_.” 

Sam turned on said eyes, though her lips betrayed her by insisting on turning up at the corners. “Don’t make me withhold spanking later.” 

Gabrielle stuttered and stalled, and her eyes went wide and dark. 

“Um,” she said, and gulped. 

Sam helpfully tapped a finger under her chin to help her close her mouth. 

Gabrielle squirmed a bit. 

“Okay, so,” she said. 

“Maybe,” she mumbled. 

“Just _maybe_ ,” she amended. 

“I mean, unless Cas told him?” she went on. 

“Which he might,” she grumbled, “because he’s a total softie.” 

“Except he’s also a bit of a sneak,” she inserted. 

“Sometime. Most of the time,” she added. 

“Dean…” She trailed off. 

“Mightnotknowthisisadoubledate,” she muttered. 

Sam paused, and lowered the mascara brush. “He doesn’t know?” 

“We might have connived. Cas and me.” Gabrielle fidgetted, as if Sam couldn’t see the edge of a grin creeping in from the corners. “ _Plotted_ , even.” 

Sam hummed thoughtfully. Then she raised an eyebrow. 

“Am I allowed to be in on this plot?” 

Delight broke across Gabrielle’s face like the sun. Then she grinned deliciously. 

“I knew I loved you.” 

Sam winked. “But you _are_ going to be punished for not clueing me in earlier. Now look right at me so I can do your mascara.” 

Gabrielle beamed and fluttered her eyelashes as best she could, which mostly meant a lot of rapid blinking, then gave Sam a wide innocent stare.  

“That would be terrible,” she said with evil earnestness. “I hate it when you punish me. Obviously.” She fidgeted with the hair at the back of Sam’s neck. “I mean, you’ve noticed that before, right?” 

Sam’s skin crawled into warm goosebumps, because that was a Spot and Gabrielle _knew_ it. “Of course I do. But we are not going to be late.” 

Gabrielle pouted, and stared up at the ceiling with woeful dead eyes. While smirking. 

She managed almost ten seconds of silence this time. 

“Sooooo,” she said. “ _Hypothetically_.” 

“Hypothetically?” said Sam absently, doing one last long careful stroke and reaching for the blush. 

“If you were in on this plot…” 

Gabrielle’s fingers strayed just under the collar of Sam’s shirt. 

“If I were— _ah!_ ” Sam squirmed, then caught at Gabrielle’s waist and did her best glare. “Sit _still_ , you evil little fairy!” 

Gabrielle laughed out loud, bouncing in place. “Still? What’s that? You don’t love me for my _sitting still_.” 

“That’s true. I don’t. But…” 

Sam trailed off, tantalising. Gabrielle plopped back down onto her thighs. 

“I won’t give you your present if you don’t sit still.” 

Gabrielle was very easily distracted by the prospect of shiny things. 

“… Oh. Um. So. If you’re in on this..." 

“Give me two minutes,” said Sam sternly, and rubbed a hand up and down her back in reward. 

Gabrielle looked faintly dismayed, insofar as she was ever faint about anything. “Two minutes of sitting still?” 

Sam raised both eyebrows this time. 

Gabrielle made a rude noise. “ _F_ _ine_.” 

Sam carefully worked for one minute. Then she caved. “So if I’m in on this…?” 

“No, no,” said Gabrielle primly. “You want me _still_. Oh hey, do you think this skirt or the—” 

Sam leaned in and gave her a deep kiss, thorough and warm. 

“Mmmmmmph,” Gabrielle finished. Then she forgot what she’d been doing and melted in against Sam’s chest with enthusiasm.  

Sam laughed into the kiss, the kind of happy incredulous laugh she found herself laughing so much these days, the “how did I get so lucky” happiness. Gabrielle grumbled complaint at the interruption so Sam did her best to appease: nibbling at Gabrielle’s lower lip, rubbing nose gently against nose, pressing in soft and gentle then sucking that lip into her mouth. 

Gabrielle’s fingers ran up the back of Sam’s neck like eager talons, curling through her hair and scritching almost too hard against her scalp. Completely ruining her hair, but hey, it was easily fixed. As Gabrielle so often bemoaned. 

Sam pulled back from the kiss, her smile far too strong to be fought back, and reached for the lipstick that Gabrielle had laid aside. “No more playing with Marjorie for tonight.” 

“My _love_ ,” Gabrielle whined, with vague grabby-hands motions at the air.  

“Yes?” Sam narrowly avoided drawing a pink streak up Gabrielle’s nose. “Hold still.” 

Gabrielle petted Marjorie soothingly. “Not _you_ , Sam.” 

Which resulted in lipstick on her chin. 

Sam huffed and reached for a tissue to wipe it off. Then she patted Gabrielle’s thigh. “There. All done.” 

Gabrielle sat up happily. “Am I the prettiest now?” 

“You always are.” 

“Liar. Nobody is prettier than my goddess.” 

“Is that me this time, or still my hair?” 

Gabrielle hummed, eyeing Marjorie with a critical eye. “Both of you. You’re a tie. You complement each other. Neither of you is a functional whole alone.” 

“I’m glad you approve of my hair.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t approve of your hair at all. I adore your hair. _So_.” Gabrielle leaned in, and rubbed her nose against Sam. “My angel. My goddess. My serene divine statuesque beauty.” 

“…Yes?” 

Gabrielle’s smile broke across her face, slow and bright-eyed.  

“How shall we torment your brother together?” 

“What, you don’t have a grand master plan?” 

“Oh, I do.” Gabrielle dropped a kiss on Sam’s cheek, possibly just for punctuation. “But Cas just said he was going to try to make Dean be less of a dick and I have _so many plans_ and Sammy and. Sam. Sammy.” 

And there was the pout again. But this time, just a hint of vulnerability in it.  

“ _Sam_ ,” she whined, and exaggerated the pout up to comedic levels again. “Why’s he hate me anyway?” 

Sam huffed, and ignored the return to levity: answered the serious intent instead. 

“He doesn’t hate you,” she said, combing some of Gabrielle’s wild hair out of her face, tucking it in soft and careful behind her ear. “He…”  

“He _does_ ,” Gabrielle insisted, grumbling at Sam’s ear to avoid meeting her eye. “I mean, every time I mock his dick or—” 

“He hates _anyone I date_.” 

Gabrielle pulled up short. 

“Oh.” 

Then, “Huh.” 

She leaned back, thighs tightening around Sam’s hips for balance, and her golden gaze sharpened to something hot and narrow that seemed to bore right through you. 

“Like _that_ , huh?” 

Sam frowned, and felt unaccountably like it might be her turn to squirm for once. “Like what?” 

Gabrielle stared at her. Then the intensity of her gaze suddenly switched off, and she stared at the ceiling, drumming her fingers on Sam’s shoulder. 

“Hey. Goddess mine. You said it’d been a long time.” 

“Since…? Oh. I did.” 

“How long, exactly? I mean, if it’s okay to ask.” 

Sam’s stomach did an uncomfortable flop. “Uhhh. It might be…” 

Gabrielle’s eyes flicked down to Sam again, sharp and unreadable. 

“... A number that’s easier to measure in years than months,” finished Sam lamely. 

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes and stared. 

Sam found herself squirming a bit, and dropped her eyes and fingers to play with the collar of Gabrielle’s cutesy ruffled black lack shirt. 

“Was he a dick?” Gabrielle snapped.  

(Brady, looking her up and down with a bit of a leer. Introducing her to all his friends as “my girl who’s a transexual”. Not bothering to have any conversations with her outside of the bedroom, not once they were officially together. Wanting to take all the photos he could. Persuading her that she needed to own up to it and learn to enjoy it. Which included having a _boyfriend_.) 

“Or she?” Gabrielle’s voice broke in. 

(Maddie, flinching every time Sam said or did anything that wasn’t entirely completely masculine. Sam, staying up late, reading through website after website, knowing that _he_ could never insist on female pronouns.) 

“Or _they_?” 

(Three other girls, from middle school onward, and varying degrees of lies and truth and self-discovery and self-punishment and—) 

… Gabrielle was right there, inches from Sam’s nose, looking tiny and downright scary. 

“I, uh,” said Sam, quietly. “Haven’t had many people react like you did, when they found out. If they found out. Let’s leave it at that.” 

Gabrielle made a frustrated noise. Her eyes were burning, anger and heat. 

“My _goddess_ ,” she growled. 

Sam smiled helplessly, and let herself go: sank forward to nuzzle against Gabrielle’s cheek, to breathe in the comforting sweet scariness of her, to kiss her chin. “I love you for being angry.  But it’s in the past.” 

Gabrielle pressed in against her. Then she sat back, and crossed her arms, and huffed. 

“I can’t kiss you,” she said, pouting dangerously, “because you _just did my lipstick_.” 

Sam grinned at her, chest aching. “Don’t worry. We can have all the kisses you want later.” 

Gabrielle eyed her over. Still stern. Still tiny. Still fierce and so damn _angry,_ over something that she’d never even acknowledged was a _thing_ before, that she’d just brushed off like nothing when Sam had told her. Over something that, in the world she and Sam made together, had no meaning at all.  

And here, of all places, the cracks appeared. Over a past that, right here and now, seemed almost laughably irrelevant. 

Sam ran her hands up Gabrielle’s hips, too fast to be a caress, and wrapped them tight around her back. 

“You didn’t care,” she whispered into Gabrielle’s neck, like she could deny it later if she spoke low enough. “Not one bit. That was important. _Is_ important.” 

“Of course I _care_ ,” grumbled Gabrielle, hands fisting in the back of Sam’s collar and hair. “I _care_ that you are _magnificent_ and _perfect_ and my _queen_.” 

Ah yes. When in doubt, back to the epithets. Sam nuzzled into Gabrielle’s hair until her smile was pressed into the crook of Gabrielle’s neck. 

“Also your dick is fun to play with,” Gabrielle added. 

Sam snorted messy laughter. “ _You’re_ fun to play with,” she retorted eloquently. 

“Well, obviously,” Gabrielle shot back. “I _am_ a fairy princess.” 

Sam sat up, letting her hands slip down to spread loose and warm over the small of Gabrielle’s back. “You,” she said, leaning in for a small peck of lips, “are _my_ fair princess consort.” 

Gabrielle waggled her eyebrows. “So I have my _queen_ and _idol’s_ permission to torment her brother as it pleases me?” 

Sam ignored the obvious subject change, and arched an eyebrow in response only to the innocently evil grin and Gabrielle’s previously proven broad interpretation of “as it pleases me”. 

“You may torment him a little. But _only_ a little. And you will stop if I say so.” 

Gabrielle’s aura of smug became smugger. Up and down went the eyelashes. “And if I don’t? I mean, if I _completely innocently forget_ and Dean gets all explosive and worked up over absolutely noth—” 

“If you _don’t_ ,” said Sam, letting Gabrielle hear the smirk in her voice, “you don’t get to see the new sheets I bought.” 

Gabrielle perked up. “New sheets? Do they have… _Broadway characters_ all over them?” 

“They might be _Wicked-_ themed,” allowed Sam. 

Gabrielle’s mouth fell open. And snapped shut. And fell open again, to form an imploring “O” shape.  

“ _Sam_!” 

Sam smirked. 

“Oh but _Sam_ that’s not fair.” A new thought seemed to strike Gabrielle—or a memory of whatever she’d been aiming for before being distracted by sheets—and the conniving gleam resparked in her eyes. “What if I forget myself. _Sam_. You need to give me a way that you can… _remind_ me. In the middle of dinner. If I… start to overstep.” 

Sam pretended not to understand for one moment longer. 

Up and down went the eyebrows.  

Sam gave in. 

“Well, if you _really_ need a reminder…”  

She lifted Gabrielle off her lap, and made her way to the living room. 

Gabrielle bounced after her. “You know, you would look absolutely _perfect_ spread out on Wicked sheets while I kiss every inch of your divine body.” 

“I’m hoping to return the favour.” Sam winked, and pulled out the small gift bag from behind the couch. It was wrapped in pink, sparkly paper, which had reminded her of Gabrielle from the second she’d seen it. “So. You should probably see the present I got you.” 

Gabrielle clapped her hands and bounced on her toes. Sam felt suddenly self-conscious, under the enthusiasm of that gaze.  

“I mean.” She cleared her throat. “If you like them.” 

Gabrielle made grabby hands, and dived across the sofa to grab. 

Sam laughed, and held it out of reach because she had to, just for those few precious seconds, so that Gabrielle had to climb up onto the sofa to lunge.  

“Sammy, you _wouldn’t_. It’s a _present_.” 

 _Oh, you don’t know what I ‘wouldn’t’_ , said a dark hot voice inside Sam’s head, the one that was new and exciting and dangerous. But out loud, she only said, “I wanted to see what you think. Uh.” 

She let Gabrielle take it, and rip into the bag with the carelessness of someone who’s never had to recycle wrapping paper. The silk—black and gold and red, lacy and fine—spilled out over Gabrielle’s hands. 

“Oooh Sam, so pretty—” 

And then whatever she’d been about to say was cut off, as she realised. Because it wasn’t just lingerie in there. The lower half of each set was finely shaped to hold the vibrator that was now lying in one of Gabrielle’s cupped hands.  

And then there was the remote.  

“... wait,” said Gabrielle, with slow mounting delight. “ _Wait_.” 

She looked at the lingerie.  

She looked at the remote. 

She looked at Sam. 

Sam blushed, dark and embarrassed. 

Gabrielle gaped. 

“ _Sam_ ,” she said, very quietly. 

Sam fidgeted. “I thought, um. I thought you might… you know. After the other day. … like these?” 

“Have I mentioned today,” said Gabrielle, deliberately, “that I _love you_?” 

… well, that was a relief. 

“And I will do your bidding with _delight_ and _great pleasure_. And the minimum of wriggling and complaining except when it is fun?” 

Sam found her grin was almost shy. “So you like them?” 

A pink-cheeked Gabrielle threw her arms around Sam’s waist and buried her face in Sam’s chest. “You are _perfect_ and oh my God but Dean is a dick Sammy sometimes I can’t resist it he just makes it so _easy_.” 

Sam wrapped her arms tight around Gabrielle. “Well, if you can manage to behave a little bit, I promise to only tease you a little bit. And then spread you out on my sheets and tease you a lot.” 

“Have I mentioned that I love you?” wondered Gabrielle. “In the last ten seconds?” 

“You might have, sweetheart.” Sam drew back and kissed her nose. “But if you want to wear them you’d better hurry up and change.” 

No further ado—Gabrielle dashed off, loot in hand. 

Sam cleared her throat. “Um,” she said, at the open door and the sounds of bustling. 

Gabrielle’s head popped back into view. “Oh, and heads up, Cas said Dean was grouchy this morning, so—yes?” 

Sam found herself blushing. “Can I… make a request?” 

Gabrielle swept a dashing bow. “Command me!” 

“The… the red.” Sam bit down on her lip. “I liked the red.” 

“The red are perfect,” Gabrielle declared, “and will go precisely with…” 

She looked down at her bright green and pink skirt and black lacy top and high-heeled pink shoes. 

“… With my mood,” she concluded firmly. 

Sam shook her head, laughing. “Wear the black if it matches better, it’s fine.” 

“Sammy Sam Sam." Gabrielle winked. "You know I don’t do matching.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was stomping and blowing on his fingers, checking his watch every minute. Castiel leaned against the wall outside the restaurant—burger and curry, semi-posh, odd but pleasant, perfect for their party—and watched him peacefully. 

“Are you _sure_ Sammy’s good to come, Cas? I mean, she’s been all wrapped up lately in this… this _Gabrielle_ business.” 

“I am certain, Dean,” said Castiel mildly. “And I would remind you that, eccentric as she may be, Gabrielle _is_ my sister.” 

“She mocks dicks,” Dean muttered rebelliously.  

It was shorthand for an entire, well-practised argument between them. Neither of them had managed to change the other’s mind, and there was no point (Castiel reminded himself firmly) of reiterating it now. Especially since this dinner—this mild, excusable trickery—was in the interests of peace. 

It was just at that moment, of course, that Gabrielle came dancing along the footpath swinging a sparkly silver handbag, Sam’s hand all tangled up in hers.  

“My bestest shiny gays!” 

Castiel straightened up from the wall, and moved forward to push his shoulder in against Dean’s. 

Sam squeezed Gabrielle’s hand. Then she met Dean’s accusing stare and squared her shoulders, standing up to her full height a little more obviously, looking down at her brother.   

“Hey, Dean.” 

Castiel smiled and nodded to Gabrielle.  “It’s good to see you both outside the pet store.” 

Gabrielle tweaked Castiel’s amethyst silk scarf affectionately. (It matched the modest little stone in his ear.) “You look so delightfully queer once you shed that puppy-pee uniform, brother mine. You are so gay, you big parfait, you flaming one-man cabaret.”  

“Legally Blonde the musical,” said Castiel automatically—accompanied by Sam, who’d obviously adapted to Gabriel’s musical theatre habit quickly enough.  

“… Dean,” Gabrielle went on, looking him up and down: “hm. Needs more sparkles.” 

“… Why. Sam.” Dean pointed and clenched his jaw as only he knew how. “Why is _that_ here." 

Castiel spread one firm, soothing hand in the small of Dean’s back. Couple language. Restraint. 

"Dean," Sam snapped, narrowing her eyes.  "Gabrielle is here as my—my _girlfriend_.  Be something resembling polite."   

There was a faint stutter on the word _girlfriend._ Castiel didn’t miss the delight that shot through Gabrielle’s face, or the way her body swayed in toward Sam’s like the centre of her own personal orbit. 

"Girlfriend." Dean grumbled. "Until when?  She finds something shinier?" 

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at Dean and shoved one shoulder in front of Sam, looking very small in front of her. “What—like plaid and worn denim, sweetheart?” 

Dean flushed and opened his mouth, but Castiel slipped his foot in the conversational door first. 

“It might surprise you to know,” he put in wryly, “that she has, on occasion, been known to dedicate herself to one project for all of a month together.” 

The attempt to defuse the situation fell flat. Gabrielle wrinkled her nose at him—not offended, but exasperated, and Sam sighed. 

"Can we get something to eat,” she said, “and stop trying to insult each other on the sidewalk?" 

Dean frowned.  "Sammy, are you sure-" 

Gabrielle squeezed Sam’s hand. “Where’s the fun in that?” she asked brightly, with a sharp grin at Dean. 

Sam tugged Gabrielle into the restaurant. Castiel followed them immediately, to leave Dean no time to argue; and so he managed to catch the whisper as Sam leaned down toward Gabrielle’s ear: "Okay, I lied.  Go all out." 

So much for peace. 

Dean’s fingers closed around Castiel’s belt. “Why are you on _her_ side?” he hissed. 

Castiel laid his hand on Dean’s arm and introduced himself to the waiter. Dean fumed while they were shown to the table Castiel had reserved, but it wasn’t until they were all seated and the waiter had provided menus and done her spiel and bustled off that Castiel replied, perfectly innocent, “I wasn’t aware that there were sides, Dean. I thought we were all friends here, or I would never have suggested that we all dine together." 

Sam grinned faintly. Dean narrowed his eyes.  

“Wait, wait, _you_ suggested this? I thought Sam had just _decided_ to bring her along to a nice family dinner!” 

Castiel gave Dean a bland look as he slipped into his seat. “Clearly this IS a nice family dinner,” he said. “Dear." 

“I am very fond of my brother,” said Gabrielle loudly to Sam. “He is the best brother. So reasonable and considerate. How do you like yours?” 

Sam looked at Dean out of the corner of her eye. But there was a small smile when she replied,  "He’s an overprotective asshole, but I wouldn’t change him for the world." 

Dean opened and closed his mouth. Then he snorted, and shook his head.  "So all three of you fucking set me up, is that it?" 

Gabrielle batted her eyelashes and snuggled in against Sam’s side. “We just thought we’d see if getting you out of our workplace relaxes you a bit more, you know. I mean, there might be bad memories associated with that place. Embarrassment. Awkwardness. Trauma." 

Sam snickered and fought down a smile when Dean glowered at her. 

Castiel touched Dean's knee with his own under the table: nothing more, because Dean's responses to touch were powerful and unpredictable. 

Dean huffed and glanced over at Castiel.  "Are the burgers at least decent at this place?" 

"Heaven forbid we take you to a place where the food isn’t good," Sam said, rolling her eyes. Her right hand slipped under the table. So did Gabrielle’s left. Castiel gave them two out of ten for subtle hand-holding, so he risked brushing his little finger against Dean’s on the table-top. 

“Would I have recommended it otherwise?” 

Dean hesitated. Then his hand shuffled in to bump against Castiel’s, under the pretence of reaching for the menu. 

Gabrielle piped up, helpful: “I hear they have the best pie on this side of town." 

Dean perked up. Sam grinned a bit. "Don’t worry Dean, we wouldn’t let you go without pie." 

Dean huffed and glared at Gabrielle for good measure before opening the menu.  "Better have a good selection, too." 

It felt like the last grumble of an averted storm: like they might just manage to make this work. So of course Gabrielle chose that moment to dance away from her one token attempt at peace-making, and bat her eyelashes at Dean. 

“Myself, I prefer pear and almond. _So_ much better than apple." 

It had probably been too much to hope that she could be gracious for more than ten seconds together. Fortunately, Castiel had long practice in deflecting her attempts to goad people. 

Castiel picked up the menu, and made an interested noise.  “What an eclectic collection. I _do_ like spotted dick." 

There was, in fact, no such thing on the menu; but Gabrielle was immediately distracted.  

Sam lifted her glass of water and smiled. “Mmm, I heard you had an affinity for spotted dick, Cas.” 

“Oh yes,” Gabrielle put in immediately, “freckles are very pretty.” 

Tag-team innuendoes already. Castiel was impressed.  

Dean choked on his air, and glared at his sister. “Fucking hell, Sam.” 

“That was unfair,” chided Castiel half-heartedly. 

"No, it really wasn’t," Sam shot back, grinning as she buried her nose in her menu. 

Gabrielle opened her eyes innocently wide and gave Castiel a wounded look, as if the pair of them didn’t make a habit of discussing their respective sex lives in front of Winchesters to embarrass them. “What, you told me that Dean—” 

Dean narrowed his eyes, and slammed his menu down on the table. “So this is the actual game you guys brought me here for." 

Sam glanced sideways at Gabrielle, and slipped her free hand into a pocket. Gabrielle immediately jumped, then squeezed her eyes shut.  

“What game, Dean?” said Sam. “We just came here to eat.” 

“Cas being a little bitch I can handle,” Dean snapped. “All three of you, dragging me out here just to make a night of it? Nice family dinner, my arse.” 

“Mocking you was not the intention of this occasion,” said Castiel pointedly. “We simply thought we would prefer for the two of you to learn to get on a little better. And that means both of you playing nice. Possibly,” with a look at Sam, “all three of you.” 

Gabrielle, who was breathing carefully through her nose and drumming an interesting rhythm with her fingers on the tabletop, reacted a beat too late. “Hey,” she protested vaguely. 

“Gabrielle?” asked Castiel, mildly concerned.  

Sam rolled her eyes at Castiel, and took her hand out of her pocket. “You can consider this payback, Dean.  For life.” 

Gabrielle exhaled quietly. Then winked at Castiel, with an embarrassed grin. 

Castiel arched an eyebrow. Then he remembered certain things that Gabrielle had mentioned with delight that she was starting to hope Sam might be interested in, and he glared. At them both. 

Fortunately for all concerned, the waiter chose that moment to turn up to take their orders. 

“No, seriously, he’s right though,” said Gabrielle, as Dean and Sam placed their orders. “I’m totally just here to mock Dean.” 

Castiel eyed her, and the protective clasp of her hand on Sam’s where they now lay on the table, in open view. “Are you really?” 

“… Shut up." 

“The farmer and the cow man should be friends.” 

“Don’t you use young Hugh Jackman’s perfect face against me.” 

Sam’s other hand disappeared back into her pocket, watching Gabrielle out of the corner of her eye. Gabrielle started to squirm again.  

 “Dean,” said Sam, her thumb running back and forth over Gabrielle’s fingers. “You gotta trust my judgement here a little bit.  Okay?” 

“Your _judgement_ ,” muttered Dean, with years of accumulated sarcasm. “Okay. Fine. So we’re going with that.” 

“Dean,” said Castiel warningly. 

“Yeah, Dean.  My _judgement_ ,” Sam repeated, squaring up her shoulders. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “I think we’ve seen how good your judgement is over the past—” 

“… So!” said Gabrielle brightly. “Who’s splitting a big basket of sweet potato wedges with me?” 

Dean blinked at Gabrielle, who sent him a surprisingly fierce glare, despite the high flush of colour in her cheeks. 

Sam leaned over and pressed a kiss to Gabrielle’s temple.  "Thank you."  She pulled back and smiled.  "Only if you get extra cheese." 

“You look like a wedges kind of guy, Dean!” added Gabrielle. 

“… Are you calling me fat?” 

Castiel passed a hand over his face and sighed. “Dean. If you can’t go one minute without trying to start a fight, I will start calling you by titles such as those my sister uses for yours.” More pointedly: "To demonstrate her devotion and dedication and love.” 

It was rather below the belt, but Dean’s allergy to demonstrations of affections alternately amused Castiel and hurt him—especially since, on those very rare intimate occasions when Dean allowed it, he opened up under the attention with hungry vulnerability. In his more sarcastic moods, Castiel wondered (though never aloud) whether Dean thought that actually showing warm emotions from time to time was what had made his little brother “change” into a girl. 

Dean paused and turned his scowl on Castiel. "You wouldn't." 

"I would. Quite happily." He levelled a stern look at Dean. “Honeybunch." 

Dean winced. 

Gabrielle rested her chin on her hands and smiled beatifically.  

"Fine." Dean spat. "So it's. You're serious. Or something?" 

Sam glanced at Gabrielle, mouth already open to snap back a reply. Only then she hesitated and something went soft and amazed in her expression. "Yeah,” she said after a moment, and somehow she wasn’t talking to Dean anymore. “I am. We are.” 

Gabrielle was already rather pink, but at that she dropped her eyes, leaning in closer against Sam, and changed the subject in a rush.  

“So I was thinking! I want to take Sam to the _fair_ next week. Couple of hours’ drive out of town. Spoil her a bit. Because it’s the kind of thing my magnificent perfect pure deity deserves. Also because cotton candy, obviously. You guys in?” 

Castiel gave Dean a pointed look, which Dean pretended not to see but obviously understood anyway. “…On one condition." 

“Ooo, kinky,” Gabrielle purred. 

Dean scowled. "I drive." 

"You really want Gabrielle and me in Baby's back seat?" Sam asked. 

Gabrielle jabbed her finger at Dean. “I pick the music." 

Dean spluttered. “If you dare...No! Driver picks the music—” 

“Driver picks the _car_ ,” Gabrielle said smugly. 

"Shotgun shuts their cakehole," Sam finished. “And I won’t be shotgun.” 

“I called dibs on music," Gabrielle agreed happily, and she and Sam shared a little high five. 

Dean sighed and looked at Cas. "Help!" 

Castiel smiled sweetly at him, then acknowledged the waiter who was arriving with their meals. 

Then Gabrielle squeaked audibly and glared at Sam. 

“What? What did I do?” she hissed. 

Sam winked at Gabrielle and leaned in to whisper something, of which Castiel only caught, "…wear these to the fair." 

“Oh dear goddess,” whimpered Gabrielle. 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Gabrielle, are you alright?” he asked pointedly. 

Gabrielle opened and shut her mouth. Then she said, “Sam is just _tormenting_ me. That’s all." 

Castiel leaned forward across the table, while Dean was busy pretending nothing in the world existed but his burger. “Really, girls?” he said, low. 

Sam had the grace to look embarrassed, but Gabrielle shrugged, unabashed. “Sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty.” 

“I rather doubt that this is what Matilda had in mind.” 

Sam grinned a bit. "I am an evil goddess. How's your food, everyone?" 

“Delicious, thank you,” said Castiel. 

 “Somebody keeps _distracting me_ from trying it,” said Gabrielle loudly. 

"We split the music," said Dean, around a mouthful of burger. 

“Between the four of us,” Gabrielle shot back, with some difficulty. 

Dean huffed and nodded. "I get to play music too.' 

Gabrielle took a bite of her burger. Then she leaned up to kiss Sam’s cheek. “Have I mentioned that I adore you lately?" 

Dean spluttered. 

Sam turned and kissed the sauce off the corner of Gabrielle's mouth just to watch Dean turn red and take a large, manly bite of food. 

Castiel smirked slightly, and walked his fingertips over Dean’s knee. 

“Also just how much and deeply you deserve to be adored in every aspect of your life and how absolutely utterly perfect your eyes look in this light?” 

Dean shivered and glared at Castiel out of the corner of his eye. "Don't you dare..." he hissed. 

Castiel spread his hand out and curled it over Dean’s thigh. 

Sam laughed. "Eat your food." 

“I feel pretty, oh so pretty, feel like singing and dancing a twirl! For I’m loved, by a pretty, wonderful girl!” 

“West Side St—” 

Castiel was distracted by the warmth of Dean’s thigh under his hand, the gentle envy at the ease with which Gabrielle and Sam could share touches and laughing love in public. So maybe that was why he didn’t notice the simmering pot beside him finally reach the point of boiling over.  

Dean put down his burger. “Okay, no, but seriously Gabrielle. What’s with that shit? What are you setting my sister up for?" 

“Just because nobody coddled _you_ right when you were a tiny brat doesn’t mean none of us know how to appreciate what deserves it,” Gabrielle shot back. 

Sam scowled at Dean. "I am enjoying the ridiculous flirting from my girlfriend. Maybe you should try it sometime." 

Gabrielle sighed, and gave Sam an adoring wounded look. “You find me ridiculous?" 

Sam leaned in and kissed Gabrielle. "The most ridiculous fairy princess there ever was."  

Dean shoved Castiel’s hand off his leg. “Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at but I see right through you, okay? You’re all show, lady. You’re playing a long game and Sam’s just been idiot enough to fall for it. Like always." 

Castiel closed his eyes and winced. 

Sam pulled back from Gabrielle and looked at her brother. "So that's no to the fair then," she said quietly. 

Dean scowled. “Don’t give me that shit. You need me to be the bad guy when you crash and burn again, fine. But I’m looking out for you, Sammy.” 

“ _Don’t_ ,” said Sam, through gritted teeth, “call me Sammy.” 

“This isn’t the place,” said Castiel.  But he was looking at Gabriel. 

Gabrielle finished her mouthful slowly. Deliberately. Then she put the burger down, and wiped her hands. And her mouth. 

"Gabrielle," Sam said, reaching out for her. "It's..."  

Gabrielle leaned forward, one elbow on the table, and jabbed a finger across at Dean.  

“I don’t give a shit what you think of me, bucko,” she said, all trace of play and fun and sparkliness vanished. “See, me? I’m just this annoying little girl who waltzed into your life one day and will waltz out again soon enough. But that guy you’re sitting next to? I’ve known him kind of a long time. We get on sort of well. You mighta noticed. You might want to think about his feelings and, hell, his ‘judgement’, before you go assuming the worst.” A smile spread across her face, ice-cold and ice-sharp. “And Winchester? That’s not squat next to what spouting that kind of thing says about how highly you think of your sister.” 

Dean gaped. Sam winced and looked down at the table as the silence thickened. Castiel winced too, though for different reasons. He could see the night of self-loathing and alocohol abuse coming up. 

Gabrielle picked up her glass, and winked. “So yeah. Nice getting to know you. Real swell guy.” 

"Uh, excuse me," Sam mumbled. She edged out of the booth, head down as she headed for the front door. Gabrielle jumped to her feet too, staring after Sam, looking torn.  

Castiel looked at Dean. "You shouldn't have said that, Dean." 

Dean sighed, and rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Don't give me that. Sam's a big girl. She'll get over it." 

Gabrielle rounded on him.  

“Okay. You. You want me to stop making fun of you at work, I can do that. I mean, that’s just teasing. Thought a grown guy could deal. Look. I don’t know about Sam’s romantic history. Haven’t delved, she hasn’t offered, don’t need to know, can guess. Don’t give a fuck except it’s hurt her and she does not deserve hurt from them or from _you_. And yeah, sure, you might have had to pick up the pieces a few times, and okay so she can be kind of an idiot when she needs to think she’s loved and cling to anyone who looks like they’re going to give it to her and _maybe_ she has a bit of a self-sacrificing streak and-" 

Gabrielle ran out of breath and sucked it all in. 

“… and what I’m saying is I don’t need her to tell me, okay? Or you. And from what I know of you you’ve made her feel like it’s all her fault and you probably meant well, but in all respect, fuck off. Leave her alone and trust her and see what happens. For six months. Give me that. Give HER that.” 

Castiel sent Gabrielle a tight smile. 

“Oh, and you’re footing the bill,” said Gabrielle brightly, and grabbed Sam’s beer off the table before hurrying out the door. 

Dean sighed and downed the rest of his beer in one go, pointedly not looking at Castiel.  

"You gonna read me the riot act too?" 

Castiel covered Dean’s hand with his own. “I told you not to judge her by the flippant demeanour.” 

Dean growled a little under his breath. "You expect me to think that someone that—someone like that is serious about Sam? She doesn’t take _anything_ seriously. Cas, I dont wanna see Sam fall apart again." 

“You saw her serious just now,” said Castiel quietly. “And I have not seen her serious for… some time. When Gabrielle loves, Dean, she loves with everything in her. Even if her manners of expressing it are different to yours." 

Dean picked at the label on his bottle, scowling. 

Castiel took his hand, gentle and firm, and he kissed it. 

The shock of it brought Dean’s eyes skidding up to his face, wide and wet, halfway between protest and something else.  

“And, no,” Castiel said, “I will not scold. If I know you, and I do, she has (albeit unintentionally) hit you in all your sorest points, because they are very similar to her own. Which means you’re all hurting right now.” 

Dean tugged his hand away and crossed his arms over his chest, defensive and small. “You think she’s… serious? She'll treat Sammy right?” 

Castiel leaned in past that barrier and kissed him, firm and messy. Dean resisted for a moment, but then he melted into it. Castiel gave in to temptation and ran a hand up through Dean’s hair to cradle his head, before pulling back. 

“She will adore your sister,” he said, “and burn down anybody who stands to hurt her. Even if that means you." 

Dean closed his eyes, and let Castiel hold him for a moment. "Can we still get pie?" 

Castiel ran his fingers down the back of Dean’s neck, and ached with tenderness. “Would I ever deny you pie, my good brave man?” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case there's anybody reading this whose relationship with their own body or gender would make this uncomfortable for them: this chapter contains PIV[1] sex between two girls.
> 
> [1] Penis in vagina. Just so we're clear. :)

Gabrielle flopped dramatically onto the bench beside Sam, and held out the beer bottle.

Sam smiled faintly, and sipped. “How’re you liking your present?”

Anything was better than talking about Dean, after all.

“You are a cruel and tender goddess,” grumbled Gabrielle without heat, and twisted around so she could flop her head back into Sam’s lap. “Hey. You’re pretty from down here too.”

Sam reached down, tangling her fingers in the casual spreading mess of Gabrielle’s hair.

“What’s your hair’s name?”

Gabrielle made a surprised noise and nuzzled her head into the touch. “I never really thought about it. It’s not as inspiring as Marjorie.”

Sam hummed and massaged Gabrielle's scalp, ignoring the spark of arousal with Gabrielle's head and mouth in her lap. "I think it is. In fact. I think it's a Meredith."

“Meredith?” Gabrielle half lifted her head, looking delighted. “Meredith and Marjorie. I ship it!”

Sam laughed and gave Gabrielle's hair a small tug. "Yes, Marjorie and Meredith. I'm rather fond of Meredith you know. She's golden like all good crowns for princesses should be,"

“Mmm.” Gabrielle turned her mouth in against Sam’s wrist and gave her a small wicked grin up from her lap. “What about my other assets?”

Sam’s smile was more real this time, as the tight lump inside her began to melt in the warmth of Gabrielle’s easy, loving presence.

"While they are quite inspiring..." Sam grinned and glanced around before cupping one breast, giving it a slow squeeze. "Elle, of course. And, who would Elle be without Vivienne," she teased, giving the other the same squeeze.

Gabrielle squeaked in delight.

“Lady of my heart!” she crooned, possibly at Sam and possibly at the as-yet-unnamed lady stirring below her head. “Of course, Elle always needs her Vivienne. Far more important than any of the men about the place."

Sam used her free hand to flick the remote peeking out of her pocket. "Absolutely. Couldn't agree more. Equal attention for them both, hm?"

Gabrielle whined and arched a bit where she was flopped on the seat, which sort of turned the whole scene from casual and cute and couply to borderline soft-core. At least in the opinion of Sam’s dick. “Right, right. Absolutely. I mean. I always thought the whole Emmet thing was kind of unnecessary."

“You adore Emmet and Elle.”

“Only in the musical!”

Sam chuckled and turned the vibrator up just enough so she could hear the faint buzzing noise, and watched Gabrielle jerk under the assault. "I do think Elle and Vivienne could use some... private attention?"

Gabrielle threw her hands back over her head to clutch at Sam’s and whined unintelligibly.

“Um,” she suggested breathlessly. “Given our brothers will probably emerge. As soon as they’ve had pie."

“Hmm,” agreed Sam, considering: letting her fingers dawdle their way up the side of Gabrielle’s throat, along the tense lines of her forearm.

“Also,” gasped Gabrielle, and turned her head pointedly against certain… points. “Also. Maybe we should consider the naming of. Other parts of our bodies. Now that we’re acquainted with them?"

Sam's eyes fluttered and she groaned, trying not to thrust her hips up. When she’d collected herself, she turned off the remote. "Then I had better whisk you away to my new sheets. Wouldn't want them to go to waste..."

“ _Legally Blonde_ , _Wicked_ , a certain Amazon and my best goddess,” said Gabrielle, with deep satisfaction. “Yes, we should definitely adjourn."

She scrambled to her feet, leaving Sam to stand rather more slowly, adjusting herself. By the time Sam was on her feet, Gabrielle was grinning the grin of _I have thought of a terrible pun_. “We should adjourn, to play _Swallows and Amazons_. Get it? Get it?”

“Oh no.” Sam laughed helplessly, reaching out, cradling Gabrielle’s face between her hands. “That was awful. Brilliant. God, I love you.”

Gabrielle’s eyes sparkled, and she nestled into the kiss with delight and fiercely clutching hands. “That’s what I’m here for.”

 

***

Despite the momentary diversion into teasing, the ride home was a quiet one, edging toward sombre. Gabrielle lolled her head back against the seat back and stared out the window, oddly quiet.

Sam was tempted to toy with the remote in her pocket, just to break the silence, but it felt like the moment was gone. Gabrielle didn’t look like she was in the mood. But like this, it was too easy for the worries to start creeping back in.

“You know,” Sam said at last, looking straight ahead. “We don’t, you know, have to do anything. If you don’t want. I imagine Dean’s attitude easily ruined your appetite.”

Gabrielle flopped her head around toward Sam with a faraway look. “Hm? Oh, what, him? Please.” She made a rude noise, and flicked a bit of Marjorie fondly back where it was falling into Sam’s face. “I’ve seen _so_ much worse than him.” A pause, then: “At least he actually, you know, cares.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, and squirmed a bit in her seat. “Even if he’s an ass about it. Uh. Can I ask you about something you said, though?”

Gabrielle brightened up, relief radiating off every line. “Words! I can do words! Ask away, my brilliant guiding star.”

“You said that you had just waltzed into Dean’s life one day and you were going to waltz out again soon enough,” Sam began and looked over at Gabriel, trying to give a smile to help her relax. “Dean’s... not going to leave my life any time soon. So, uh. You know that. Right?”

Gabrielle gaped at her.

Gabrielle flopped back in her seat with a groan.

Gabrielle jabbed a finger in the air as if to make an indignant point, then huffed and covered her face with her hands and giggled helplessly.

“ _Sam_.” Gabrielle reached over and slapped Sam’s hand on the steering wheel, a loving silly little reproach. “You thought I was saying I’d leave _you_?”

Sam gave Gabrielle a hesitant smile, relaxing a little bit as she made one final turn towards her apartment. “I was...concerned by the comment, let’s say that.”

“Okay, sweetheart, I say this with love but you’re a bit of an idiot sometimes, you know that, right?” _And some people have really screwed with your head_ went unsaid.

Sam parked the car and huffed, looking over at Gabrielle. “Call me an idiot and I’ll remind you who has the remote.”

Gabrielle went a bit pink and grinned, but wouldn’t be deterred. She leaned over and caught Sam’s hand before she could make a move to open the door. “Hey. Hey, light of my eyes. Tell you something? Cas? Not actually my brother.”

Sam blinked in surprise and then snickered. “Well that saves the awkward incest-in-law conversation, at least. How’d you two meet?”

“He’s close enough. Cousin, technically.” Gabrielle shrugged and unbuckled her seatbelt, swinging her feet up into Sam’s lap and settling her back against her own door, hands behind her head. “So, funny story. You know how you keep saying ‘oh, you’ve got money’ and so on. Well, I do. ‘S why I waited until I was twenty-one before I left, getting access to that. Cas, he had guts—he got out long ago.”

Sam tilted her head at the words _got out_ , and studied Gabrielle. Neither Castiel nor Gabrielle ever talked about family. “And… you found each other afterward because you wanted to, or on accident?”

Gabrielle shrugged, looking cheerfully unconcerned, and kicked off one heel to nuzzle her foot in against Sam’s hand. “Oh, we’d kept in touch. Anyway, ‘sfar as I’m concerned it’s family money, not mine, which is why I own the house and don’t let him pay rent. Not the point I was going to make. Uh. What was the point I was going to make?”

“I don’t know, I parked and you called me light of your eyes and then started talking,” Sam said, leaning in press a kiss to the top of Gabrielle’s foot. “I’m not sure why.”

“Really? That doesn't sound like me at _all_.” Gabrielle beamed. Anyway. Yes. So. Family crap. Lots of fun. Remind me to tell you about Uncle Zach sometime, he was a piece of work. Still is, I imagine.” She mostly looks highly amused by all this. “Oh, hey, there was this one time when he was convinced that the wine in the cellar was going down faster than it should have been and decided I was binge-drinking on the sly so he told Mom and they started trying to set traps for me and being all concerned at me and telling me how it was all for my own good that I go and see a counsellor and so on and I didn’t work out what it was about for _aaages_ , because apparently it was easier for them to believe I was a thief and a liar and a drunk than to talk to me. Four or five households, all woven in together, we always thought we were _close_ but it was the wrong kind of close, etcetera etcetera, and we knew we loved each other and trusted each other with everything because we always _said_ we did and never hid anything from each other and wow.”

She paused and nudged her toes in against Sam’s belly. “I mean, it wasn’t abusive or anything, just stifling. And everything you did was part of what everyone else did and you never learned how to just stand up on your own. There was this one time I just figured that everything I said was going to be wrong anyway because they said I was too frivolous and it was worrying so I didn’t talk for about six months.”

Sam reached down and covered Gabrielle’s foot with her hand. The bones felt very fragile under the spread of her fingers.

Gabrielle grinned at Sam as if this was all a big joke. “I know, right? Me!”

Sam shook her head—picked up the foot and cradled it, pressing her thumb into the arch of Gabrielle’s foot, mimicking Gabrielle’s own massage techniques. “Six months is a very long time not to talk,” she commented quietly. “Did it worry them at all?”

Gabrielle huffed. “Don’t look so glum, silly queen. I talked to _myself_ , just not when anyone else was around. Can’t be the wrong thing to say if no one tells you it is, can it? Besides, it was funny watching them try to figure it out. Anyway, after that I was Deadly Serious for a couple of years, all pencil skirts and theology, then I decided screw it and now I’m like this.” She did jazz hands. “So basically, if I say something in a way that sounds silly it’s because I actually mean it more and I don’t want anyone else getting their grubby hands on it and making up their own minds what I mean. Like when I say your eyebrows are the most perfect fuzzy caterpillars to ever crawl over a maiden’s brow.”

Sam couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of her and she relaxed in her seat, trailing her fingertips up Gabrielle’s shins. “Well, I rather like you like this, insanity and all. Just so we’re clear.”

“Perfect!” Gabrielle beamed. “People don’t take me seriously, so they don’t know what to make of me. Just the way I like it. Except when someone like Dean comes along and goes all judgey, which would be fine, except he’s important to _you_ , and, anyway. I think the point was. I don’t always say things the best way? Um. I meant, ‘hi Dean, I don’t care if you think I’m someone who’s going to waltz in and waltz out’. Was that a really long round-about backstory infodump way of explaining it? It was, wasn’t it?”

Gabrielle took her feet back so she could tuck them under herself and curl over to kiss Sam’s neck.

“It was,” Sam agreed, closing her eyes and tilting her head to the side for Gabrielle to kiss at. “I’m okay with that. But now, we could definitely check out my new _Wicked_ sheets? Maybe?”

“Mmm.” Gabrielle nuzzled in a bit to leave gentle butterfly kisses along the tendon down the side of Sam’s neck. “Now you know my _grand tragic backstory_ and all.”

Gabrielle waved a hand vaguely at the windshield, sketching out impressively operatic shapes. “Not much of a story, I know. Some vivid details and anecdotes, lacks narrative cohesion. Could do better on the whole ‘clarity of central conflict’ thing, also character development and resolution.”

Sam shivered and her eyes fluttered shut. “I don’t know, think character development is a matter of opinion, you seem pretty well...developed to me anyways,” she teased, offering Gabrielle a quick smirk and a wink.

Gabrielle beamed, and fumbled for the door handle. “Aww, you like Vivienne and Elle?”

Sam slid out of the car a moment later. “I do indeed. I thought I had left you undoubtedly aware of just how much I liked them?”

Gabrielle bounced over to her and tucked an arm through Sam’s. “You convinced me, cherie, but the ladies themselves remain a trifle sceptical. Hey. Do you think Cas is the straight-man sidekick to my dashing comic hero? Except for the gay, of course,” she added at once.

Sam laughed. “I think that Cas is your sidekick who is definitely not straight, yes,” she said, looking around as she opened the exterior door. “And...well…” she slid her hand up Gabrielle’s side and up her tummy. “I cannot leave the ladies the tiniest bit skeptical. I’ll have to work on that.”

Gabrielle made a happy little noise and melted in promptly against Sam’s side. “Bedroom?” she suggested, bright and breathy like it was a really original idea.

Sam led Gabrielle towards the bedroom, kicking off her shoes and socks on the way there, taking Gabrielle’s hand in hers and pausing next to the bed. She glanced down at the themed sheets and then back up to Gabrielle. “Okay, time for you to work your magic again so I stop being nervous.”

Gabrielle laughed openly, golden eyes crinkling at the edges, all warmth and light and love. “Oh, it is, is it?”

She slipped out of Sam’s arms and danced backward toward the kitchen, mouth curving mischievously. “Then shouldn’t we get something to eat first? I mean, you didn’t have much back there, and I wouldn’t want you running out of steam halfway through.”

Sam’s eyes widened and she leaned out of the bedroom doorway. “Are you questioning my stamina?” she growled, fumbling the remote out of her pocket, cranking it up as she advanced on Gabrielle in the kitchen.

Gabrielle stumbled, half-falling backward against the table with a stuttered whine, knuckles clenching white on the wood. “Not your stamina, just—uh—just I have every faith in the bottomless capacity of your perfect stomach?”

Sam’s eyes brightened and she smirked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I suppose that’s a good point. So you sit there and… enjoy and I’ll find something to eat.”

“ _Sam_ ,” Gabrielle breathed restlessly, and let her head fall back. It was a teasing pose, whether she meant it or not: legs half-spread, hands half behind her against the table, back arched, lower lip caught between her teeth, line of her throat exposed, one curl clinging to the skin there with a faint gleam of sweat. And what made it better was that Gabrielle herself was the one being teased.

Sam had to lick her lips and turn away to consider the contents of the fridge. And also adjust her erection. And try to ignore the soft whimpers coming from behind her.

Sandwich, ingredients… bread, right… and maybe…

She grabbed few things and laid them on the counter.

“All I really want to eat is you,” she said in a low voice, watching the shiver that crept through Gabrielle at her tone. And damn, Gabrielle like that made her want to have her right here in the kitchen.

“Happy to be on the menu,” said Gabrielle, breathless.

… Just a brief taste.

Sam advanced on her. Gabrielle’s eyes didn’t open but her face turned to track Sam’s movements, tipped back when Sam leaned down: perfect, heady surrender that made Sam’s blood sing inside her.

“Mmm. You do look tasty enough to devour,” she murmured, leaning down so that her lips almost brushed Gabrielle’s throat.

Gabrielle lifted a hand, shaking slightly, trailing up Sam’s chest, doing her best to slip it around the back of Sam’s neck to keep her there, pull her in closer. “I’m—I’m more of a dessert, my queen of stars. You should eat your mains first.”

“I think I’d like you to be every single course,” Sam said, sucking a small mark into the base of Gabrielle’s throat. Then she pulled away, laughing softly, and went back to the sandwich.

Gabrielle watched her hungrily, every movement and every breath.

“I think,” Sam went on, dragging flat of the the butter knife across the bread nice and soft, watching the way Gabrielle’s eyelashes drooped and fluttered in anticipation, the soft parting of her lips. “I think that I’d like you to… sing for me.”

“What?”

Sam grinned, floating on the delicious thrill of Gabrielle’s indignation, of her unquestioning compliance.

“Go on. Finish a verse and you’ll get a reward.”

Gabrielle huffed, and gave her a narrow glare. Sam arched an eyebrow, laid tomato slices on bread, and changed the setting of the vibe. Intermittent pulses, apparently, by the reaction.

“Three blind mice…?” tried Gabrielle.

“I know you can do better than that, sweetheart.”

Gabrielle giggled. “You are my Samshine, my only Samshine…”

Sam gave her a Look, or tried to. Gabrielle’s giggles were infectious.

“What? It was the first one that came to mind!”

Sam finished the sandwich, lining up the second slice on top the bread with precision. “Um. Gilbert and Sullivan.”

“The bridegroom _comes_ , likewise the bride, the maidens are very elated and merry. They. Uh. _Oh_. Sam, that’s cheating, I can’t remember when you—”

“What?” asked Sam innocently, spreading the dishcloth out over Gabrielle’s thighs with gentle little strokes. “Don’t want to get crumbs on my table, after all.”

“Oh, you are _not_ going to—” But Gabrielle’s eyes were shining delight.

Sam leaned in and kissed her nose, settling the plate on her legs. “Holding still enough not to topple my plate, while singing? You think it’s too much for you?”

“I am the _very model_ of a modern goddess’ gi-irlfriend,” declared Gabrielle. “No, no, a modern monarch’s min-ee-yon.”

“Okay, that deserves a kiss.”

The plate almost got toppled.

“Sandwich,” Gabrielle reminded her with a moan, after a heated minute.

“Singing.” Sam settled into her chair, between Gabrielle’s knees, and smirked up at her as she reached for the sandwich whose contents might as well have been pond sludge for all she remembered them.

“… I’ve information—I’ve info on the nuances of glass toys versus silicone? I know the lyrics to _Les Mis_ and quote the songs historical, From G &S to _Hamilton_ in order categorical—”

Sam gaped at her, unreasonably turned on. “If you’re going to show off I’ll have to raise the stakes.”

“I’m very well acquainted too with challenges from goddesses, Who think their girlfriends can’t hold still and stick to all their promis— _ahh_!”

“ _Technically_ ,” growled Sam, kissing her way up Gabrielle’s thighs as plate and dishcloth tumbled to the table, “you should lose points for rhyming goddess with promise. But you’re still the best show I’ve ever had over dinner.”

Gabrielle shifted her hips against the air, eyes open now and locked on Sam, watching every flicker of tongue and shift of lips as Sam nuzzled the hem up inch by inch. “Do my best. To please my lady and queen. _Sam_ —oh—On weepy eyes in kittens I am teeming with a lot of—”

Sam nipped her, hard. “Oh god. You can _stop now,_ you ridiculous perfect genius, you win.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Gabrielle gasped. “I was going to have to find a rhyme for _lot of news_. And hypotenuse just wasn’t going to cut it.”

Sam opened her mouth over a fading bruise and laved it once with her tongue, tasting salt and skin, breathing in a much more interesting scent from a little higher up. “Lot of _facts_ ,” she suggested, voice dropping lower. “Old dogs and cataracts.”

“You complete me,” Gabrielle hissed and pushed in against Sam’s mouth, against the hint and scrape of teeth. “Ugh. Talking about cataracts shouldn’t be sexy,” she groaned.

“You started it with the conjunctivitis in kittens.”

“Missed opportunity. Should’ve used that for one of the ridiculous line-ending words. To rhyme on. Oh, I know, rhymed with—”

Sam bit down, hard. Gabrielle cried out, and forgot about rhymes for _conjunctivitis._

“I’m thinking,” murmured Sam against soft, heated skin, “that it’s absolutely time for dessert. You glorious creature. How about you?”

Gabrielle tipped her head back and nuzzled her fingers in under Sam’s collar, wriggling her legs wider on the table as Sam shoved back the chair and sank to her knees. “Yes. Yes and yes,” Gabrielle mumbled.

Sam held up the remote and carefully turned it off. The low buzzing noise stuttered into nothing, leaving the room very silent.

“Well… what my favourite worshipper wants…” Sam teased, reaching up and under the edge of Gabrielle’s skirt, pushing it up around her hips. “I think that she gets. What do you think?”

“I think that I deserve whatever you choose to give me, my lady,” purred Gabrielle coyly.

“Well,” Sam drawled. She pressed in close, nuzzling in along gloriously bruise-mottled pale thighs. “I think that I should treat you as a goddess, just for today. I have never seen anything so beautiful.”

She slid her fingertips up higher and gave a dramatic pause, looking at Gabrielle.

“ _Sam_ ,” Gabrielle whined, and tried to wriggle. “You don’t _tease goddesses_ , Sam. That’s how you get _smited_. Smote. Smut. Smit?”

Sam laughed, pressing soft kisses up higher, toward where hours of teasing had left Gabrielle sticky and damp.

“I don’t know,” she said as she pulled the panties carefully down Gabrielle’s thighs, tugging her in closer until Gabrielle’s thighs were on her shoulders. “Let’s see. There’s some clean-up that needs doing first…”

Gabrielle sighed exasperation and delight, as Sam set about cleaning every inch of her upper thighs with narrow little kitten-licks. She whined when Sam nuzzled up to the crease of one hip—purred when Sam made her way back down again, just missing the _crux_ of the matter—tangled her fingers in Sam’s hair with a whimper when Sam continued on down to the beginning of the crease of a buttock, chasing a slick new trail—positively sobbed when the tip of Sam’s tongue tickled across her perineum—

Then Sam started making her way back _down_ the other thigh. Away.

“ _Saaaaammy_ ,” Gabrielle pleaded, making at least eight syllables out of it.

Sam paused, letting Gabrielle feel the teeth, the edge of a grin.

“Perhaps you’re right. I wouldn’t want to be smote by a goddess. I’d rather have one scream for me,” she whispered, and sucked in another mark.

“ _Smitten_!” Gabrielle breathed out triumphantly, then gave up bothering about her muscles and flopped backward onto the table with abandonment.

“... ow,” she added, and rubbed the back of her head.

Sam paused and looked up at Gabrielle. “Ow is not a sexy noise, or usual sexy babbling. You okay?”

“I hit my _head_ ,” Gabrielle complained to the ceiling. Then she wriggled her hips, questing up toward Sam’s face. “You stopped. Who said you could stop, minion? First you take away my vibrating undergarments then you blatantly _fail to replace them with—_ ”

The quickest (and best) way to shut Gabrielle up, at least for a few seconds, was to drag her forward and give a long, slow lap of her tongue.

Sam felt Gabrielle tremble and smirked, repeating the touch, reaching up to hold Gabrielle in place by her hips. She closed her eyes and completely lost herself in the sensation of taking Gabrielle apart, piece by piece, sloppy and so so good.

Gabrielle duly shut up for the space of about ten seconds, gaping and wordless with her eyes fixed on the light fitting overhead. Then she had one hand tangled in her own hair and the other sliding down to comb through Marjorie, again and again, arching and squirming into every touch and babbling an adoring litany of words and noises and nonsense of the kind that Sam was so quickly coming to know.

Sam brought Gabrielle right to the edge, to the point where she could feel her thighs getting tense, and her voice getting louder. And that, of course, was the moment to pull back and lick her lips, rising to her feet.

Before Gabrielle could protest, Sam picked her up off the counter and carried her back to the bedroom, tossing her on the beautiful new _Wicked_ sheets in a messy delicious sprawl. Then Sam climbed up between her legs and pinned her to the bed, to go to town on her again.

“You’re _evil_ ,” Gabrielle panted, trying to squirm back upwards against the bedhead and failing abjectly through a combination of her own shaking limbs and Sam’s firm hands on her hips. “You’re perfect and _evil_ my beloved beautiful perfect evil perfection thing, Sam, _Sam_ , when am I going to get to touch you, _Sammy_ I want to worship you and you’re close I can tell you’re making that noise you make in your throat that’s _mine Sammy_.”

Sam paused for just one second and groaned, sliding one finger into Gabrielle.

Her whole body shuddered as she imagined it: imagined sinking into Gabrielle and fucking her, making her cry out. There was something so different about how Gabrielle made her feel, like nothing about her was lacking and she was completely accepted.

“Yes,” she whispered, shifting to suck a mark, then another, then another into Gabrielle’s thigh before pressing her tongue in, sucking and teasing at Gabrielle again. Rough and deep—no tease now, only hungry glorious gratification, fingers pressing in hard on the bruises her mouth had made already.

“ _Sam_ ,” Gabrielle pleaded, that weird voice halfway between a hysterical babble and a purr that she always got when she was on the edge, pawing imperiously at Sam’s head and shoulders. “Sam, get up here, I want, kiss me you idiot, _Sam_ I want you here, all the perfect glorious weight of you, now, come on babe, up here.”

Sam huffed and stretched up and out and over Gabrielle, between her legs, her erection pushing against Gabriel’s thigh. She resisted the urge to rock in against her as she leaned up for a kiss, groaning into the taste of Gabrielle’s lips.

“So gorgeous, fuck, so good, want you so badly,” she whispered into Gabrielle’s mouth, hardly knowing what she was saying in the perfect warmth of Gabrielle’s body, the perfect warmth of her eyes.

Gabrielle kissed back fiercely, with abandon, with delight and all her body and heart, legs curling around Sam’s hips and body arching up into her in instinctive wordless plea. “Got me, Sam, all of me. C’mon, clothes off. Please?”

It was always hard to actually get undressed when Gabrielle was like this, because she seemed completely unable to let go of Sam long enough for her to move, hands clinging and clenching everywhere. Sam had to force herself to pull right back to scramble out of her clothes. Like this, with Gabrielle all desperation and kisses, there was no time to be nervous about her body.

Underwear finally kicked into some obscure corner, she stretched out on top of Gabrielle again. Habit and self-consciousness had made her careful not to lean too much weight on her partner, but with Gabrielle it worked. Sam’s erection tucked perfectly (lovingly?) in against the groove of Gabrielle’s hip as she pressed down to kiss her again, even though Gabrielle hadn’t bothered to lose the rest of her clothes.

One long, deep kiss, then two more, each one shorter and fiercer than before, carrying words unsaid and the scrape of fingernails and the erratic pulses of breath.

Sam pushed at the offending scraps of lace, shoving at Gabrielle’s shirt with a frown. “Off, off!” she demanded.

“Hmmm,” said Gabrielle, humming against Sam’s cheek. She wriggled slightly under Sam, half-laughing at the fumbling attempts. “Hello you.”

Sam blushed a little bit and leaned down to kiss Gabrielle, unable to keep from herself from rocking and grinding just a little bit against her.

“Hello you,” she shot back, lifting herself up to push at Gabrielle’s shirt again. “Can you hurry up and get this off. I think Elle and Vivienne would like to play, hm?”

Gabrielle giggled and tugged her shirt and bra off with some difficulty, fabric stretching and bunching until the ladies in question bounced free. The tangle of clothes vanished over the side of the bed, and Gabrielle settled down more comfortably on her back.

“Hey,” she murmured.

The immediate desperation of a minute ago had ebbed a little into a warm happy glow of excitement. Gabrielle ran her hands up Sam’s sides, reverent and oddly soft, cupping the backs of shoulder blades lightly for a moment before rubbing her nose against Sam’s, and drawing her down into a cuddle that squished all four ladies in together. “Sam?”

Sam looked down at Gabrielle and smiled, giving her a soft kiss. “Yeah?”

Gabrielle settled her legs wide and comfy around Sam’s thighs. It shifted Sam’s weight, until her erection was nestled neatly between her legs—just where it felt _perfect_ and hot and damp. Letting it rest there, but of course this was _Gabrielle_ so it wasn’t a request, wasn’t pressure, it was just there because it was pleasant and comfortable right _now_ for both of them and there was no way Gabrielle would push for more than Sam was okay with, no matter how easy it would be just to rock her hips up…

Sam froze and let her eyes fall halfway shut and her whole body shuddered, because she wanted, she wanted for the first time, in a really, _really_ long time.

And Gabrielle brushed the backs of her fingers over Sam’s cheek, tender and serious, and she grinned.

“So you know you can tell me anything, right? And also _not_ tell me anything because I know _you_ and I don’t have to know every detail of backstory for that and I am really really okay with either option, right?”

“I—yeah. Yeah I know,” Sam said, her voice quiet.

It was so tempting, and it would be so easy, to press in, nice and deep, sink all of the way in, make Gabrielle gasp with something more than her fingers.

Sam lowered her head to breathe against Gabrielle’s cheek; and she let her hips shift, just a little, the faintest hint of a roll. Testing the idea.

“I’d like to uh, maybe? Try?” she offered.

Gabrielle blinked up at Sam, mouth half open.

“Try… talking?” she said, in the tone of somebody knowing that wasn’t the answer but _just making absolutely sure_.

Sam huffed and looked up at the ceiling for a second before she steeled herself for someone to possibly tell her no.

Gabrielle took the opportunity to kiss her throat.

“I mean, try—”

Sam broke off with a groan, as the kiss turned into a nibble.

“Fuck it,” Sam growled. “Do you have a condom handy?”

Gabrielle made one of her incomprehensible squeaking noises, only this one came with a whole-body shudder and all four limbs clenching tightly around Sam for a moment.

“Please,” she hissed after a moment, jabbing her finger in the direction of the bedside drawer, “what do you take me for, some kind of pessimist? I bought four whole packets in a wildly hopeful size like, the day after I met you. And I was absolutely right about the size, by the way.”

Sam immediately scrambled for the bedside drawer, rifling through it for a moment before she pulled out what she was looking for and blinked.

“Wait. The day... after you met me?” Sam asked, pausing as she looked at the foil packet and then at Gabrielle. “You knew?”

“I _adored you on sight_ ,” asserted Gabrielle impatiently, lounging back all over the bed and petting Sam’s thigh and eyeing her hungrily all over. “And I knew I must have you. And also, yes, I figured you were probably somewhere between zero and one and was prepared to salivate with delight over whatever was inside your pants, and also don’t you remember I took you jeans shopping? Those tight ones do look perfect on your butt, by the way. C’mon gorgeous. If you’re sure, I mean. Are you sure? I mean, we don’t have to, or I could… I don’t know, something else, anything’s fine, but—”

There was only one thing to do, which was to kiss her.

Before she let Gabrielle up for air, Sam had ripped open the packet and rolled the condom on. Apparently there were some skills your fingers just remembered.

“I’m sure,” she whispered against Gabrielle’s mouth. “I’m _so_ sure. If you’re okay, I’m sure. Do I. Uh.” Confidence wavered, though not the pounding rush of desire. “Do I need, uh, lube? Or to stretch you or anything? Been…” Sam flushed and groaned looking up at the ceiling. “Haven’t done this since long before I knew I needed to go on hormones, so. Rusty.”

Gabrielle snickered a bit, but her arms as she drew Sam back down to her were careful and wondering. “My glorious golden goddess, after hours and _hours_ of tormenting me. I’m good. I am _so_ good. Hurry up already.”

Sam laughed and leaned in for a kiss and carefully got herself into position, her eyes fluttering a little bit as Gabrielle’s thighs settled around her. “Hours and hours of torment is what you deserve. I had—had _weeks_ of torment.”

The groan as she slid in (slow and careful) echoed against Gabrielle’s lips, echoed forward and back between them.

Sam couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this good.

No ready reply from Gabrielle: she had her hands locked around the back of Sam’s neck, pushing up into the long delicious stretch, defying Sam to pause halfway or stop to check she was alright.

Gabrielle’s moan tailed off in a whine and Sam’s in panting, foreheads pressing to foreheads, gasping for breath between wet open mouths.

“Who’s… tormenting,” Gabrielle gasped, as soon as she could. “You _denied me_ for _weeks_.”

Sam had a reply for that, she did, but she was completely lost in the delicious clench of Gabrielle’s body, molded to every part of hers. “You deserved a little teasing back,” she panted, rocking her hips, just a little bit, _promising_ with the motion as she sank into another kiss. “Don’t you think?”

“ _Oh_ , tease me every day,” growled Gabrielle recklessly, raking her fingers up through Marjorie, returning the kiss between gasps and broken words. “Sam, Sammy, this is so much better than silicone. I mean, silicone’s amazing and can be all sorts of interesting shapes and also vibrate but this is all warm and _you_ Sam, _Sammy_ , move, c’mon.”

Sam groaned and kissed Gabrielle a little harder, her words a teasing little fire under her skin.

She planted her hands on either side of Gabrielle’s shoulders and slid out and then all of the way back in, one slow thrust, getting as deep as she possibly could. It felt good, so good, so she did it again, and again, her eyes riveted to Gabrielle as she arched into every single movement.

Sam had never seen anything so beautiful; and she made sure to do her best to make sure Gabrielle felt worshipped. It was easy to lavish Elle and Vivienne with the appropriate amounts of attention, kisses, licks and sucks that had Gabrielle trembling underneath her.

Gabrielle didn’t bother holding Sam’s gaze: she rewarded every movement, every sensation with voice and face and body, fingers slipping and clutching everywhere, foot running distractedly up and down the back of a calf or splaying wide to brace against the mattress, mouth alternately stretching up to catch at Sam’s and trying to assure her with half-words and moans of exactly how _that_ was the best thing ever, _that_ was the right movement, no, _that_ one was even better, and oh, oh, _that_ one, and oh, you, _you_ , _Sam_ , surrounded by, covered by, inside and out, everything in the world is _you._

Sam always liked Gabrielle’s voice, but like this—it was heady, and it was shockingly intimate, and it was reassuring. For once, Sam felt like she knew precisely what she was doing right, every single bit of it. She kept up the same angle Gabrielle wanted, and kissed her just as hard and desperate. It was so good, almost too good, and she knew that she was never going to last.

“Gabrielle, please, I want…” Sam sucked in a desperate breath, her body shaking. “Want to see you.”

Gabrielle tossed her head on the pillow and let out a breathless huff of a laugh. “Oh thank fuck I was trying to hold on.”

Sam shook her head and groaned. “Don’t, don’t try, fuck, please.”

“There, just—” Gabrielle dragged one of Sam’s hands to a nipple and shifted the angle of her hips, so that every shove dragged in against her clit.

“I wanna, come on, let go—”

Sam tried to make it an order, but her voice shook, even as she gave Elle a soft squeeze and pinch again.

“As you wish,” Gabrielle purred, trying for sultry but tailing off into a moan as she bit down hard on her lip and arched up into Sam’s body with a helpless cry, fingernails biting into Sam’s shoulders and feet scrabbling for the backs of her calves.

Sam gasped and slammed her eyes shut managing to thrust twice more into Gabrielle’s body before she lost it, her whole body shaking as her orgasm washed over her.

When she could think again, she was panting, half lying and half leaning on Gabrielle. Gabrielle was clinging to her, all arms and legs and languor and self-satisfaction, giggling drunkenly into her neck.

“Damn,” Sam whispered, grinning a little more widely.

She leaned in to kiss Gabrielle softly, her eyes fluttering shut. She felt so damn good.

“So,” Gabrielle managed after a moment, suddenly very serious and solemn, “was that okay?”

Sam smiled and pulled back from Gabrielle, staring at her. She knew that she needed to move (and think about clean-up) and get rid of the condom and other sorts of important in the moment things. But right now, staring at Gabrielle, who wanted nothing more than to make sure she was okay, there was only one thing to say.

 

“I love you,” Sam blurted, her eyes going a little wide. “Not like, in the moment, sex-was- _awesome_ love. But just, I love you. Like. Stupid-in-love-with-you love.” She was quiet for a second, staring into Gabrielle’s golden eyes. “You made it feel okay. Great, I mean. It was awesome.”

Gabrielle traced the side of Sam’s face with the backs of her fingers, eyes laughing and wondering and smug all at once. Then she grinned a little bit, and rubbed her nose against Sam.

“I was actually joking. Silly. You know. Being a brat? But.” She wrapped her arms around Sam’s waist and closed her eyes, turning her cheek on the pillow to nudge in against Sam’s face. “Uh. I mean, I kind of said ‘I love you’ the moment we met. Even if it was to your hair. But. You.”

She scrunched her face up into a confused little grimace, then opened one eye to peek at Sam to see if she was still being watched.

“Love with my hair at first sight?” Sam offered. She let her eyes fall shut, even as she shifted a little bit: slid out of Gabrielle and grabbed the condom to throw away, before settling back in and on top of Gabrielle. She yawned and nuzzled into Gabrielle’s hair. “I don’t know, I’m rather in love with Meredith. So, enjoy your affair with Marjorie, and I’ll enjoy my own.”

Gabrielle poked Sam in the ribs and scowled far too ferociously to mean it. “Silence, you, I’m trying to say something _serious_. With feelings and everything.”

Sam mimed zipping her lips and smiled, resting her head on Gabrielle’s shoulder, looking down at her with raised eyebrows, attempting to wait patiently.

Gabrielle pulled a face and stuck out her tongue. “I just. You know. People say ‘love’ and it means lots of different things, right? Shit, I mean it differently every time I say it to you. Some new different way of loving you every day. But. I mean. You make me feel like _me_. Like, really me, not me-trying-to-be-something or me-the-way-people-see-me. Don’t know what that means, but... There. That’s it. That’s the big thing.”

Gabrielle flopped onto her back with her arms spread wide.

Which was exactly when Sam’s phone vibrated.

Sam ignored it: looked down at Gabrielle and reached out to comb her fingers through Gabrielle’s hair and smiled. “I like _you_ ,” she repeated. “You drive me crazy, and I don’t know how I am ever going to be able to manage you again,” Sam teased, a hint of a smile on her lips. “But you, you as you-you, are absolutely crazy and amazing.”

Gabrielle grumbled, and reached for a pillow to hide her blush.

Sam reached out and tickled Gabrielle in the side. “Don’t you hide from me!”

The phone vibrated again.

“Mmph.” Gabrielle waved a hand vaguely in its direction, still hidden under the pillow. “Phone.”

Sam huffed and turned over to where her clothes were, fumbling through them for a few seconds. Then she sat upright in bed, blinking in surprise.

_Dean: So, if you guys are still on for the fair, I’ll bake. Picnic shit. You know._

“ _Oh_ ,” said Sam.

Gabrielle peeked out with one eye, making a questioning noise. “Brother?”

“Yes. But. There were two texts. I’ve only got one.”

Gabrielle made a bewildered noise, then grumbled and leaned bare-arsed over the edge of the bed to hunt for her own phone, which was rather distracting.

Sam resolutely turned her attention back to her own phone, to shoot off a quick response.

_Sam: We’ll bring the food and I’ll get some of your favourite beer._

Then she leaned in, and pressed a kiss to Gabrielle’s butt.

Gabrielle squeaked and batted at her. Sam giggled, and helped her flail her way back up onto the bed. “Dean’s on for the fair. Planning to bake for us too.”

Gabrielle was giggling rather more than seemed necessary. “Sam. _Sam_.” She held out her phone. “Your brother. The one who pretends he hates girly things and wouldn’t know a musical from a mosquito? He just quoted _Legally Blonde._ ”

Sam raised an eyebrow, and took the phone. There, on Gabrielle’s screen, from an unnamed number that Sam recognised as her brother’s:

_I used to pray for the day you’d leave, Swore up and down you did not belong. But when I’m wrong then I say I’m wrong._

“… ‘And I was wrong about you’,” Sam finished, shaking her head. “Typical Dean. Can’t even actually say he’s wrong when he’s saying he’s wrong.”

Gabrielle snickered. “I’d call that pretty impressive backing down, though.” She abandoned the pillow and octopussed herself around Sam, yawning. “Should I worry? Is he going to kill me to preserve my silence?”

“Nah,” Sam said, stretching out under Gabrielle with a yawn herself. “Pretty sure you’re safe.”

“Mmm.” Gabrielle nuzzled into Sam’s neck. Then she smirked, and gently patted the exhausted lady between Sam’s thighs. “Good. Wouldn’t want to die of horrible poisoning just when Penthesilea and I got so well acquainted.”

Sam blinked and tested the name. “Penthesilea?”

Gabrielle looked smug. “You know Sappho not her? _Sam._ I must have fucked you stupid. She was only the _queen of the Amazons_.”

Sam laughed and leaned in to kiss Gabrielle. “How appropriate.”

Gabrielle wiggled happily, and returned the kiss. “Besides. It practically contains the word ‘penis’.”

Sam decided it would be a good time to shut Gabrielle up. Using her lips.

Gabrielle was, as always. Obedient. At least for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The main G&S song that Gabrielle was filking is [the Major-General's song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTSpFksJ9LQ) from _Pirates of Penzance_ , though she briefly started out with ["Duty, duty"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-J4uUL0aokk) from _Ruddigore_. Dean's text at the end references [Vivienne's big "screw Callahan, you're awesome" number](https://youtu.be/xjkscx9Osmw?t=1h49m5s) toward the end of _Legally Blonde, the musical_ , which leads to Elle getting back on her feet and going on to win the trial.


End file.
